Alone
by Personification of Fluff
Summary: A MirokuSango story. Because there isn't enough out there. Life's lonely for a demon killer, and for a monk. Sooner or later, everybody needs a hug....


Alone

Disclaimer:  I don't own Inuyasha.

Rating: PG.  Probably G, really though.  Disney has shown more.

Summary: A fluffy little SM fic, because there aren't enough out there.

Dedication:  For all of my friends out there who make me the PoF.  I have no aim without you; no arms to hold me; no reason for a smile, and nobody to tell me that I'm loved.  Thank you, for being there for me, whenever I needed you.

I hope you like it if you happen to stumble across this, because nobody should know they are alone, and without you, I know I never will be.

~*~

            It had been a hard battle…

            But then, wasn't it always a hard battle?

            The fights seemed to be growing longer, the demons stronger, and their numbers greater.  This one had been particularly fierce, and the travelers had quickly set up camp so everybody could rest.

            Sango sat beside Miroku, who was busy staring at the fire.  The monk was slightly surprised, as normally Sango would have been weary of his wandering hands, especially now that it was dark.  Apparently last night's attempt and excuse that he had seen a spider on her was not believable.  As if her proximity wasn't enough to confuse Miroku, she suddenly ordered him to take off his shirt.  "What?"

            Opening the first aid kit from Kagome's world, she barely glanced up at him. "That weasel demon got your shoulder.  Just let me look at your shoulder so that I can clean and bind the wound."

            "Are you sure that Kagome taught how to use all that properly?"

            Glaring at him slightly, she unraveled some gauze and dampened in lightly with some rubbing alcohol.  Her gaze darkened slightly.  "Yes, I'm sure.  Now keep your hands to yourself, Houshi-sama."  She paused when she saw Miroku without his robes on.  Sango almost dropped the cloth she was holding.  She kept her eyes on his hands, those hands which always felt a way to her bottom, no matter how hard she watched them.

            "This may sting a little." She pressed the cloth against him.  Miroku made no sound of discomfort.  He watched her bandage his wound and though it was hard, he did not reach out to her once.  By the time he pulled his robes back on, she had vanished.

            Miroku looked around: Shippo was asleep; Kagome was yelling Inuyasha to come down from the tree so that she could bind his wounds.  Myoga, of course, had disappeared and would not return until he was certain the coast was clear.

            Picking up his staff, he closed his eyes, letting the wind tell him where she had gone.  He followed her.  Sango had not run too far away, putting only enough distance between herself and her friends so that they would not hear her cry; because she was crying.  Sango quickly dried her cheeks when she saw that he had found her.

            She shyly clutched her injured arm already bandaged, and curled up into a tight little ball.  She sat on a rock, over looking a river.  She didn't move, but when Miroku walked to stand over her, she moved over silently, giving him enough room so that he could sit beside her.

            "My lady Sango, is your wound that badly injured?"

            Sango shook her head.  "It doesn't hurt at all, Houshi-sama."

            "Then why the pretty tears, Sango?"

            Staring at the river,, she was silent for a long moment.  She didn't know if Miroku would understand, but one look at his right hand proved that, in fact, she was the one who was beginning to understand him.  "I feel so overwhelmed.  Everything is becoming so much more stronger, and I wonder if I'm ready for it yet, houshi-sama.  Not just with demons, but with my feelings too, with my friendship.  Kagome, Kirara… and you too, Houshi-sama.  It all seems like so much.  I just stand the idea of anything bad happening to you."

            "Sango?"

            The demon exterminator laughed shortly.  "No.  I mean it.  I finally understand it.  You've been aware of your own mortality for a long time.  So have I.  I don't know what's happened before the first time I picked up a weapon and started to fight, but whatever it was, it made me fear death.  It made me fear loss.  I don't want to lose anybody else…."

            Miroku reached over and cupped one of her cheeks.  He received a slap on the cheek in response.  When Sango demanded what that was for, he smiled and told her that she was acting strangely, and only wanted to make sure that she was still herself.

            Looking into her eyes, she saw that she was going to have to explain it to him.  "When I started my life as a demon extinguisher, I gave no thought at all to my future.  Yes, I would die; everyone dies, and my death would more than likely be in the line of duty, like others before me.  I thought nothing of love, Houshi-sama, or of children.  But then I met you, and encountered a persistence that was as annoying as it was admirable, and now I can't get the idea of love out of my head."

            He stared at her.  Sango talking about love?  He opened his mouth to speak, but shut when he saw she wasn't finished.  He wanted to know what was on her mind, and he'd never find out if he interrupted her.  He'd always admired Sango.  He'd always respected her.  He knew that the demon exterminator was a complicated woman, but he'd never imagined that her complications extended so far down.

            Sango looked back down at the river and slipped off her shoes to let her toes dangle in the water before she started up again.  "Everyday now, I wake up thinking that one of my friends might die, or that I might die.  And do you know what I keep telling myself, Houshi-sama?  I keep on telling myself that I can't die, because I don't know what love is, and I… I don't want to die without knowing what love is."

            "That, is the price of being a warrior," Miroku slowly answered.  "It's quite similar to what I say to myself each morning.  Everyday I tell myself that I can't die because today might be the day a woman agrees to bear my children, or that day that Sango won't strike me for groping her."

            "Miroku…."

            He looked at her in surprise, pleased to hear his name in her lips.  Her face was soft, her golden-brown eyes wide and happy looking.  Her lips were slightly parted, and tears still clung stubbornly to her red cheeks. 

            Miroku's breath caught in his throat.  He didn't dare breathe, terrified that if he did he would break the spell that seemed to be wrapping around them, and he thought he should go mad if that happened.

            "I don't think I can do this alone anymore…."

            His hand covered hers.  He felt her whole arm stiffen in surprise.  He stared her, but she continued to gaze at the water, even though her cheeks burned brighter.  His voice softened, as naturally as it would have had he been talking to a scared little girl, instead of his beautiful Sango.  She could sense the honesty in the suave voice he used on other girls, and that was what caught her attention, his words a comforting second.  "You're not alone, Sango.  I'm here with you."

            "I don't want to… I _can't_ die without telling people how I feel about them.  But every time I try to find the right words, I keep thinking I'm being selfish, and I realize that I can't tell you, not when the next fight might be my last one."

            "Then don't say them."  Miroku's voice was practically purring.  "Keep them close, and let them out when you can, when the time is right."

            "But if the time is never right?" she worried out loud.

            Sango's body was warm.  He shifted on the rocks so that he could reach out and take Sango's shoulders, letting her lean on him.  He loved the way her blush grew, so that even her nose looked slightly pink.  Miroku was wearing his serious face, the one where his eyes were so dark they almost looked black.  Now that he was staring at Sango, his eyes didn't look quite so melancholy.

            Her heart was beating as only a girl's whose love was staring at her with unyielding intensity could.  Miroku felt his start to try to chase hers.  He suddenly felt as if she were silently begging for him to kiss her.  Did she know what she did to him when she begged him to kiss her?

            He reached over and rubbed her behind, receiving the usual slap.  This time she looked hurt, and almost pleasantly surprised as she demanded why he'd done that.  Miroku was happy to notice that she didn't move away.  "My apologies, Sango.  I merely wanted to be certain that it wasn't a dream."

            Staring at her, he was tempted to tell her how highly he felt of her, but her words rang true.  His eyes flickered down to his accursed hand.  How could he tell her when death marched on his heels?  He couldn't tell her how he truly felt, and then leave her.  Sango was right….

            But he could show her.

            He leaned forwards.  Good grief, were his hands actually clammy?  It wasn't as if this was his first kiss!  But it was with Sango…  Why wouldn't his heart slow down?  He saw her brown eyes widening in surprise; he'd managed to catch her off guard.  He let himself become lost in a realm he had thought only existed in dreams as his lips touched hers.  They lingered there a moment before he moved them across her mouth, tasting her lips.

            Releasing his grip on her shoulders, he found a sparkle in her eyes that he thought would only show itself when she slapped him.  His cheeks were darker than hers in their blush.  "Forgive me…"

            There was no time for words.  Words only got in the way, and Sango didn't think she could say what she wanted.  All she knew was that right now, more than anything else, she wanted Miroku.  She wanted to be held, and held by him, because there was only person left in the world that made her feel loved, and it was him.

            Drawing her arms around Miroku's neck, she let her fingers play with the ends of his hair.  She tried to copy his movements as she drew herself close, her body now not only warm, but soft against his.  Her lips pressed against his, cutting off the rest of his apology.

            Miroku kissed her once, before he took control of the situation.  He let his mouth falls from hers, leaving a tiny trail of kisses as he moved down, kissing her jaw line and her neck before coming back up to her mouth.  Her breathing had lost its rhythmic pattern, and he barely heard her whisper his name.  It felt like his heart stopped.  She had said his name, again.  What he would do to have her say it again!

            He caught her bottom lip between his, and slowly kissed her, his gentle ministrations earning a low moan from Sango.  Sango lifted her mouth to his, copying the movements he had shown her.  But when she let her mouth fall slightly open, inviting him to deepen the kiss, Miroku pulled away.

            Catching her confused expression, he smiled at her and kissed her nose.  "Not tonight, Sango, my love.  We'll save something for the future.  Besides, as it is, I don't think that I will be able to stop."

            Her brown eyes widened further.  'Sango, my love'.  Was it merely an endearment, or was it serious?  It was so hard to tell sometimes, with Miroku.  She'd accept it as the truth now, because she doubted that she could banish the elation in her heart that had burst into life after hearing him call her that.  Let it be true!  Let the feelings that wrapped around her when he held her be true!

            He passed Sango her belongings and then scooped her up into his arms.  He jumped off their plateau and carried her back to camp, pausing every few steps to kiss her again. Miroku winked at the star-struck demon extinguisher.  "See?  I told you I wouldn't be able to stop."

            Luckily, Shippo was still asleep and the other couple had disappeared, probably taking their fight somewhere that wouldn't awaken Shippo.  Kagome's shout of 'sit' proved it.  No doubt Inuyasha was now flattened like a bug on the ground while Kagome looked somewhere between pissed and hurt.  Miroku took the opportunity to lay Sango on her bedroll, and kissed her briefly, letting his fingertips run down her chin.

            She quickly changed in the woods, her boomerang not far away and Miroku paying close attention to what was going on.  When he heard her approach, he looked over his shoulder, stopping his fireside meditation.  "I moved my sleeping bag.  I hope you don't mind."  But then he saw that she was already curled up, ready for bed.

            Climbing into the sleeping bag that lay beside hers, she smiled when she rolled over, her eyes bright once more.  "Goodnight, Houshi-sama."

            "Goodnight, Sango."

            When they woke up the next morning, they found themselves holding hands.  Sango glared at him, but it gave way to a smile.  It was followed by a wink, and Miroku nodded understandingly.

            "But, Sango!" he cried, bursting from his bed.

            "Don't you 'but, Sango' me, you lecher!" she screeched, chasing after him.  Inuyasha and Kagome looked up, saw that everything was normal, and promptly decided to sleep in.  Sango and Miroku were alone when they stopped by the river again.  Laughing quietly, they held each other in their arms and traded a lover's good morning sign between them.

            For the first time in a long time, they had woken up in good spirits, their old fears not showing their vile heads.  Sango did not have to be worried about dying without knowing love.  Though they could not say the words, not at such a dangerous period, the way Miroku kissed her told Sango all she needed to know.  For Miroku, knowing that Sango was trusting herself to the hands she had so long wearily watched, even in sleep, was more than enough.

            No, neither of them needed to hear anything.

            Just being held was enough to know they would not die without experiencing love.  They already had, for longer than either of them knew.


End file.
